


Winter Tomb

by penpenhooray



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bilbo is grumpy hobbit, Buried Alive, Character Death, Clothed Sex, He hates being buried alive, Hobbit Culture, M/M, Post BOFTA, Premature Ejaculation, Thorin is a majestic dork, hibernation, not really - Freeform, sex in a tomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3839923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penpenhooray/pseuds/penpenhooray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo never mentioned that Hobbits hibernate during the winter, and that Hobbits tend to sleep like the dead. So when the Company find Bilbo next to Thorin's body, cold and with no detectable pulse, they assume that Bilbo is dead. </p><p>Some weeks into Bilbo's hibernation, the Company Burglar wakes to get himself a snack, only to find himself in his own tomb. When Thorin discover that the tomb has one very live Hobbit inside...well, there isn't much resting in peace for one tomb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Tomb

**Author's Note:**

> So I needed to practice my smut, and sitchedopened asked for some Bagginshield.
> 
> Unfortunately, there's a little too much plot, not enough porn (does anyone else have this problem?

_“Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books... and your armchair... plant your trees, watch them grow. If more people... valued home above gold... this world would be a merrier... place...”_ Bloodied and battered, Thorin’s eyes closed.

Bilbo couldn’t accept the words coming from Thorin’s mouth, “No! No, no, no! No!” His throat was numb from crying the word so many times, but he couldn’t care less. He clung to Thorin’s body, as if he could somehow keep the soul from escaping the body, “Thorin! Thorin... don't you dare!”

 _Don_ _’t leave me…_ Bilbo thought desperately, _Don_ _’t leave me when we’ve just begun…you were going to be a great king…you were going to be_ my _king_ _…_

The sharp shriek of the Eagles brought Bilbo’s gaze skywards. The Eagles were there to rescue them all again…

“Thorin... hold on.” Bilbo had to stop himself from choking on a sob as he looked at the wings of the Eagles above. “Hold on. Look. The Eagles. The Eagles. The Eagles are here. Thorin!”

Bilbo looked back down at Thorin, hoping against all hope that the arrival of the Eagles would bring life back to Thorin’s body.

But the King under the Mountain remained still.

“The Ea -” The words caught in Bilbo’s throat as they dissolved into an ugly sob. The sobbing continued to wrack Bilbo’s body as he threw himself over Thorin’s in a pathetic hobbit blanket.

What warmth had been left in Thorin’s body was quickly robbed by the surrounding ice and wind, leaving Bilbo as the only thing warming Thorin.

And Bilbo could already tell that he didn’t have much warmth left to give. Surrounded by the icy terrain, he nearly missed it.

The Sleep was creeping upon him, he could feel it in his bones. Lady Yavanna was calling him back into her arms to sleep for the winter, to save his strength for the coming spring.

The corners of his vision were growing dark, and his limbs were sluggish to obey his commands. He was weak, and he needed to sleep.

Falling asleep beside Thorin was not the worst of fates.

Though, Bilbo was well aware that the months of meager rations and harsh adventuring conditions had left him weak. Perhaps too weak to survive the Winter’s Sleep.

But as Bilbo closed his eyes, resting his head on Thorin’s chest, he decided that wasn’t such a bad thing.

* * *

 

_“He’s over here! Bilbo too!”_

_“Someone get a healer!”_

_“Are they alive?”_

_“Thorin won’t be for long! Bilbo…I don’t know”_

_“Get them to the healers’ tent, hurry! We may still be able to save them!”_

* * *

 

When Thorin opened his eyes, he desperately wished he hadn’t. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest and it felt like an oliphant was sitting on his chest. A creaking groan escaped his lungs.

“Easy there, lad.”

As the haze cleared from his eyes, Thorin could barely make out Oín tending to him. They were inside, most likely in one of the inner chambers of Erebor.

“Wha…” Thorin rasped, his lips cracking, “The battle…”

“It’s over, lad.” Oín nodded, mixing poultices.

He was alive then, and Erebor was still theirs… “Others…” he croaked, wincing slightly.

Oín didn’t say anything. Whether or not it was because the healer didn’t hear him, or simply didn’t want to answer, remained a mystery.

* * *

 

Thorin must have fallen asleep, because the next time he opened his eyes, Balin was speaking with Oín in hushed tones.

“Balin…” Thorin cursed his weak state as his voice was little more than a rasp.

But his adviser heard him all the same, his wise eyes turning towards Thorin, “Good to see you awake, Thorin. You gave us quite the scare, we nearly lost you.”

“Feels like it.” Thorin grimaced. He knew he’d probably be feeling the scars of Azog’s blade for years, if not decades, to come. “The others?”

Balin’s mouth pressed into a tight line. It was an expression Thorin knew was not a good sign. “Most of us only have some minor injuries. No doubt my brother will have new scars to brag about…”

“Who’s died?” Thorin gasped, trying to fill his lungs, “Kíli? I saw Fíli…”

“No no, Thorin.” Balin shook his head, “Kíli’s fine, Fili too. Well, not fine, he’s lost a leg from the fall, and he still hasn’t woken up, but we’re hoping he’ll pull through…”

“Balin…”

Balin trailed off, looking older than his years in that moment. When his adviser could not meet Thorin’s gaze, a cold dread settled in Thorin’s heart, and he would have preferred Azog’s chilled blade.

“Bilbo?” Thorin whispered, watching his old friend’s face.

The adviser shook his head, “We found him with you, holding onto you. We didn’t see any serious wounds on him, so we focused on you and Fíli while we waited for him to wake up. It wasn’t until we were sure both of you were going to make it that we checked on him. But by then, he was already ice cold and his heart had stopped…” There was agony on Balin’s face, and Thorin could see that his friend blamed himself.

Bilbo’s fate wasn’t Balin’s fault. It was Thorin’s, him and his foolishness and greed and arrogant pride. Bilbo was an innocent in this war, and he had paid the ultimate price. He was Thorin’s prudence, his patience, and his piece of heart and soul he long thought lost.

And he was gone.

His chest burned in agony as a sob wracked his chest, a wretched choked sound. Oín was at his side in an instant, nearly forcing tonic down his throat. The pain began to ebb away, but so did his consciousness.

“Balin…” Thorin slurred, trying to keep his thoughts together long enough to give his orders, “I want Bilbo buried…full honors…”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

* * *

 

Bilbo hated waking up hungry. Of course, he hated being hungry in general, but he had gotten used to that over the past few months. That being said, he still didn’t like waking up hungry.

Especially waking up from Sleep to a grumbling stomach. It made for one grumpy hobbit.

Waking up in the dark didn’t help. Or that he was asleep on cold stone. Honestly, he knew dwarrow loved their stone, but had no one in Erebor heard of a bed?

Bilbo shifted up on his elbows to sit up, only to hit his head on stone above his head.

It was only then that Bilbo realized that he wasn’t just asleep on stone, he was encased in it.

If Bilbo had been in that situation before beginning his adventure, he might have fret and lamented over his impending doom of being buried alive.

But now, Bilbo was just too damn hungry.

Rolling onto his back enough to prop his hobbit feet against the roof of his prison, Bilbo grunted in effort to move the stone.

The slab of stone would have been far too heavy for Bilbo to lift on his own, even if Bilbo had been at full strength. But given Bilbo’s natural drive to survive (and eat), he was able to move the slab from its resting place, revealing an inch gap of fresh air.

From there, Bilbo was able to wiggle his fingers into the gap, eager to inch the slab more and more out of his way.

What he wasn’t expecting when he reached his hand out of the stone was the sound of terrified screams.

Well that was a rude wake up call.

“Yes, hello?” Bilbo cleared his throat, rough from disuse. How long had he been asleep for? Surely no longer than a few weeks… “Could you help me out of here?”

Only more screams answered him, as well as the sounds of chaotic feet scrambling to get away.

Great, now he was alone. How rude…

Bilbo had been prying at the edge of the stone for nearly twenty minutes when the sounds of footsteps returned, heavy and rushed.

“Your majesty, I don’t think it would be wise to—”

“I do not care if it would be wise, Dain. I want that tomb opened, and I want it opened _now!_ _”_

Bilbo’s heart stopped. He knew that voice, but he also knew that he shouldn’t be hearing it. But before he could process what he should and should not be hearing, the stone slab above his head was abruptly moved away, revealing the bright (to him) torchlight of the room above.

As Bilbo blinked to adjust his eyes to the light, he could spy the guards holding the stone, but he could also see—

“Thorin…” Bilbo breathed, his heart leaping in his chest, “You’re alive!”

The King under the Mountain stared at Bilbo in stunned disbelief, “That is _my_ line, you confounded hobbit!” Thorin looked quite pale as the two simply stared at each other.

Of course, Thorin always had been better with actions than with words. So it should have come with no surprise when, without warning, Thorin turned to Dain and the guards, barking out orders in Khuzdul. Bilbo watched as the dwarrow left the room, but no sooner did the stone doors shut behind them, leaving Bilbo and Thorin alone, did the king pull Bilbo into his arms.

“I thought you were dead…” Thorin murmured, cradling Bilbo close.

Bilbo shook his head, “You were dead…you magnificent idiot…” he nearly sobbed, cradling Thorin’s face in his hands, “How could you charge into such a suicide mission, you idiot?”

He didn’t let Thorin answer, peppering kisses all over Thorin’s face. He missed the feel of Thorin’s facial hair against his lips, the way they scratched his cheeks and chin. He missed the way Thorin’s arms felt around him, strong and sturdy and warm. He missed the way he felt with Thorin, protected and loved.

He though he’d never feel that way again.

“Thank Yavanna you’re alive…” Bilbo whispered, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck, “I didn’t want to live without you.”

“Living without you was torture…” Thorin ran his hand through Bilbo’s hair, which had grown quite a bit during his sleep, “There were days during my recovery in which I did not want to wake… Oh Bilbo, I had been nothing but wretched to you… I didn’t deserve you.”

“Oh shut up and kiss me, Thorin.”

For once, Thorin was eager to obey Bilbo’s request.

Oh, how Bilbo had missed Thorin’s kisses. Thorin’s lips were filled with a primal sense of urgency that Bilbo had never experienced before from past lovers. He always lost his breath in attempt to keep up with Thorin’s intensity.

But as the fire of the kiss began to burn down, Thorin’s kiss became more subdued, his lips moving in gentle worship of Bilbo’s own.

Bilbo could feel Thorin’s strong hands slide from where his shoulders down his waist and coming to rest on Bilbo’s hips (which Bilbo  was embarrassed to admit were far too bony).

“Beautiful…” Thorin breathed against his lips.

Bilbo blushed, resting his forehead against Thorin’s, “Not in this state, I’m not. I’m sure I look dreadful right now.”

“Shh…” Thorin shook his head, “No talking…” He murmured, laying Bilbo back down in the stone and covering his small body with his own.

Rough hands divested Bilbo of his tunic, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh as the rough calluses caressed his skin. By the time Bilbo had managed to get his tunic over his head, Thorin had already attached himself to Bilbo’s nipples. The searing heat of Thorin’s tongue on the pebbled flesh drew a shuddering gasp from Bilbo.

“Thorin…” Bilbo panted, tangling his finger in Thorin’s hair. He could hear Thorin’s crown fall to the ground with a clatter, but he really couldn’t have cared less. Especially as Thorin began trail kisses down his chest and stomach, toying with the belt at his waist. Honestly, Bilbo wasn’t sure how long he could last, as his arousal was already straining against his leather breeches.

If Bilbo hadn’t been so preoccupied, he might have wondered who had dressed him in new clothes. But honestly, he had bigger (and much _harder_ )tasks at hand.

“Thorin, if you don’t take me now, so help me…” Bilbo whined, arching into Thorin’s touch while scrambling to reach any bit of the king’s clothing to remove.

Thorin shucked off his overcoat, “No oil…” he grunted, pressing another kiss to Biblo’s lips.

“To hell with that.” Bilbo groaned, “I’m going to burst…”

“You and me both…” Thorin chuckled, reaching his hand to cup Bilbo’s arousal.

And perhaps it was Bilbo’s weakened and altered state from his Sleep, but he was still embarrassed when he arced into his completion, a strangled cry escaping his lips.

“Oh goodness…” Bilbo blushed, “I cannot believe I did that…”

Thorin smiled softly, “I guess it’s been a while…” He chuckled, the deep sound reverberating against Bilbo’s chest, “Don’t worry,” he kissed Bilbo gently, “We have time to work on stamina.”

Bilbo hummed in agreement, snuggling in Thorin’s arms. Already he could feel himself growing sleepy once more. And as he drifted back into Yavanna’s arms, he couldn’t help but think that falling asleep this time around was _much_  more enjoyable than the previous time.

Even if he was still hungry.

* * *

 

If Bilbo hated waking up hungry, than waking up to hunger pains was downright intolerable.

Especially waking up in the dark.

“Not again…” Bilbo groaned, trying to sit up, only to bump his head once more, “Son of a— _THORIN!_ _”_


End file.
